


Fall and Rise

by LadyoftheGeneral



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Apex Legends Assimilation, Apex Legends Lore, Apex Legends Season 4, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other, POV Bangalore (Apex Legends), POV Wraith (Apex Legends), Revenant Being Revenant (Apex Legends), Suspense, faithful to canon, intended to be faithful to canon anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24435052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheGeneral/pseuds/LadyoftheGeneral
Summary: How the Legends met their newest...addition.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	1. When one falls

What happened to Forge shook us all. 

There was no warning. Not even for me; none of my voices cried out. None of the other versions of me, spread throughout thousands of millions of universes, saw it coming. Maybe we were all too focused on the TV, on the new Legend who would be joining us eventually. On Bangalore’s anger and distaste for him. The general ‘asshole’ vibes we all got, just from what we’d seen of him so far—he talked down about so many of us. Claimed to be humble and kind and then made disparaging comments about our abilities, about us going up against him eventually. I watched Anita’s ire grow and the voices, _my_ voices, warn me it would be nothing but bad news when they finally met again. 

“ _Look, the Legends are great and they deserve respect, but they've NEVER faced anyone like me. And when we hit the ground, I dare_ any _of them to bring the fight up close and personal._ ”

Well. We all saw what happened next. 

_Was that personal enough for you?_

For the next few weeks, those last few seconds of Forge’s life were passed around on the Internet, over and over again. The lights flickering off, and when they come back on, that face. Red and white. Yellow eyes. There are blurry, low-res images of it all over the place. News article after news article names it an ‘unknown assailant’. There’s press releases, Hammond Robotics makes a statement calling for remembrance for Forge and respects and condolences for his family, but there’s no further updates on who— _what_ —killed him. No investigation that we’ve heard of. No further information on _why_ he was killed. And then after those weeks, it’s like it never happened. 

As the existing Legends, they turned to us first. The press, the fans. They want to know how we feel. If we know who would want to hurt Forge—I see Anita’s knuckles whiten around whatever she’s holding when that question is asked. She never liked him, but that doesn’t mean she wanted him to die. The voices are weirdly quiet as well. It’s sobered all of us up. Even Elliot and Octavio have nothing stupid to say. And then everything goes quiet on that front. Fans may still hold candlelight vigils and weep for a life lost too seen, but the media moves on to the next thing, as media always does, even though the Apex Games are about the biggest thing around. Call us morbid, but we all expected Forge’s death to carry a little more weight. It carries weight for us. But in some ways it seems the rest of the world’s just...forgotten. 

It’s midnight. Most of us stay up late, especially if we don’t have matches coming. And we don’t, yet. We’re prepping for the next season. Waiting to see what Champions the execs spit at us now that their biggest cash cow is gone. Competitions people work their way up through until they can get to our level, compete against us—Forge had made it up through the qualifying rounds, he was next in line to go toe to toe with us. It was a pretty big privilege, and a pretty big risk. You might think that, in our line of work, death is trivialized. We can be respawned, revived, brought back from certain doom. 

It’s not. It’s still so very real. What happened to Forge just makes that all the more real. We’re only human. Respawns and revives always have a small chance of not working—technology is incredible but not perfect. They haven’t invented anything for the psychological trauma either. But we know the risks. We accept them because in the Apex Games, there are hundreds of failsafes in place to protect us. Even when we get ‘killed’, it’s staged, more than anything. There are always medics instantly ready, off-camera. Because we _know_ we’re going into danger. 

There was no one there for Forge, and it’s not like there’s a lot you can do for a heart that’s been _ripped_ in half either. Whatever it was that attacked him—I’ve heard the whispers but I need more information from _my_ world before I make a definitive statement—knew what it was doing. Knew that, in a world where death usually wasn’t the end, there were only a few select ways to ensure it _was_. 

_The phone_. 

I heard the whisper right before the notification buzzer went off. It wasn’t just mine. A few seconds of delay here and there, but everyone else was pulling their various communication devices out. We’d all gotten the same message, and as I picked up mine, the voices grew louder. 

_It’s him._

_They’re crazy. _

_He’s dangerous, what are they thinking—_

“New Legend,” Gibby says aloud, because we’re all looking at the message with consternation. We’ve gotten these texts from Apex before the official reveal of new players every time they get someone. Wattson, Crypto, Octane—according to Gibby, there was even one for me when I got there, despite it being in the earlier days of the game. They also gave us notifications when older legends phased out or left; at least we got some degree of a heads-up before the world was told. Our current group had been here for the past three years; there were no legends older than that at this point, they’d all left shortly after the games had begun. One of them, Blisk, even became Game Commissioner. I never met any of them. Bloodhound has, maybe Gibby’s met one or two. I don’t remember all the names, and sometimes we’ve gotten announcements from Apex execs about champions who never actually make it to the Games at all, for one reason or another. 

_Like Forge_.

But no one was talking excitedly now, or asking questions, or reading the rest of the article aloud; because there was no article. Just a few lines of text, impersonal, matter-of-fact. 

_Apex Games announces a new legend to join its legends’ roster after the untimely death of James ‘The Forge’ McCormick. Your new fellow Legend is Revenant._

‘Revenant’. Something about the name sparked a surge of anxiety that wasn’t so much in me as in some me far down the line, in a different universe, who knew what this meant. But for once, the eternal talking was almost silent. Of course they were always present in the background, but they were mumbling feebly, none of them actually speaking to me. I could ask who ‘Revenant’ was, but I rarely got answers to the questions I asked. Or I rarely got answers I liked, anyway. 

“That’s it?” Elliot pouts. “ All we get is a name? ‘Revenant’? No picture? They at _least_ always give us a picture.”

“Well, they obviously didn’t give us one now,” Caustic mutters, but Octavio’s already talking. 

“Revenant...isn’t that, like, a preacher or somethin’?”

“That’s a reverend,” I mutter. 

“I thought that was when you were disrespectful.”

“That’s _irreverent_ ,” Caustic is about two steps away from shoving Octavio off the arm of the couch he’s precariously perched on and I can’t say I blame him. 

“Normally they call ‘em a potential Legend, too.” This is Anita, sitting on a stool in the kitchen, frowning at her handheld. She’s right; it’s usually ‘ _Your new potential fellow Legend is so-and-so._ ’ It wasn’t like that with Crypto, because he just kind of...showed up...but it was for Octavio, and Ajay, and Natalie, and Forge. That’s something else that sets off the voices, little personal warning sirens going off in the distance in my brain. This entire situation is making me uncomfortable.

It’s Lifeline, interestingly enough, who turns to Crypto, sitting far away from us by his computers. “Hey, Crypto, can ye figah out who this new legend is?” We all begin to turn in his direction as well. He doesn’t like a lot of eyes on him, and we all know it, but even Bloth is staring. (Or at least their head is pointed towards him)

Crypto sighs. He doesn’t like being the center of attention and he doesn’t like being asked to do things, but I can already tell that he knows more than we do even now. 

_He does know._

_He’s going to tell you but he won’t know the name._

_They’re the_ same _._

Because the Voices have always, famously, been cryptic, I ignore them and give Crypto my attention. 

“I cannot find anything on this…’Revenant’ person. But I’ve found other things. Potentially unrelated things...or perhaps they are related. We cannot know for sure.”

“And do you plan on...telling us these things, Mr. Park?” Caustic asks him stiffly. 

Crypto doesn’t even spare him a glance, but I can _feel_ his withering glare from over here. He types something on his keyboard and then pauses, pulls up a selection of files, and drops the bombshell that voices are suddenly telling me is coming. 

“The thing that killed James McCormicck. It has been seen before.”

“What does this have to do—” 

“Shh.” Ajay shushes Elliot. “Go on, Tae Joon.”

“25 years ago,” he says. “The same...thing...that killed Forge attacked a restaurant. Killed…” he paused, leaned closer to the screen, and then frowned. “Eight people. Hammond Industries rushed to hide the event. Just as they have done with Forge.”

No one responds, because none of us are totally sure what to say. He’s right—for a multibillion-dollar corporation backing a future, _popular_ legend, Hammond has been alarmingly quiet about this. You would expect calls for justice. An indication, of _any_ kind, that they were looking into what happened. But after those first few requisite press conferences and the same memorial speech every few hours on a different news channel...radio silence. 

_Because they don’t want you all to know._

_But you’re going to._

_He’s coming and he’s coming here._

That line, more than anything, shakes me. _He_? As in whatever it was that killed Forge? Does this mean someone—maybe Hammond? Maybe the Mercenary Syndicate—is targeting us? 

“Hammond Industries has also experienced multiple high-level break-ins. Names have been taken.” Crypto pulls up a file that’s apparently a confidential email sent to employees of Hammond Robotics, stating that they felt no one was in danger and any employees who felt unsafe would be compensated for relocating. It’s about as reassuring as a cancer prognosis—a stunning example of a corporation lying to its employees to avoid panic. The intruder took the addresses of nearly 300 employees in the company—if this is the same intruder that killed Forge, and I suspect it is—there are 300 people in danger. As if he read my mind, Crypto also pulls up another one, this time a statement to members of Outlands TV network. 

“Wait, the Syndicate is involved?” Elliot asks, somewhat alarmed. 

“The Syndicate has partnered with Hammond Robotics and both have sponsored a large portion of the new World’s Edge arena,” Crypto replies tonelessly. Another chill, another whisper in the back of my mind. 

“What does this mean, Crypto?” I finally find my voice, and I realize I’m more scared than I thought I was. Is that just me? Or are other Wraiths out there, terrified, afraid, of some strange thing I have no name or face for? 

“The thing that killed Forge is after Hammond employees and anyone in good with the company,” Crypto answers, swiveling around in his chair. 

“Anyone who has connections with Hammond better cut ties fast,” Caustic says bluntly. “Mr. Park, do you have any idea what this… ‘thing’...actually is?” He sounds disdainful, but my voices disagree. “Or are we all just going to be sitting here scared of ghosts for the rest of our potentially short lives?”

_He’s scared_

_We’re all scared_

_He’s coming here, he’ll be here soon_

If you aren’t going to be helpful, I think into the void, then please shut up.

In response, Crypto just pulls up a video. CCTV footage, of what might be a courtyard or a loading dock or some corridor somewhere. We all sit for several minutes staring at the large screen, watching the occasional flicker of the grains, and then suddenly something darts across the screen. It’s fast, it’s big, it goes by too quickly to get a good look at, but Crypto rewinds and pauses, and there it is. Blurry and out of focus, and mid-motion, but I’m almost certain that’s the same thing that killed Forge. 

The tension in the room is palpable. 

“Why doesn’t anyone tell us about stuff like this?” Elliot complains. “This could be potentially life-threatening to hundreds of people.”

“We’re just athletes,” Gibraltar says, but his voice is somber, and I know what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it too—we aren’t _just_ athletes. Some of us are veterans, doctors...Caustic doesn’t count, he lost his license...and we could do good in the world. But here’s the thing. None of us are really heroes. Gibraltar is, because he saved hundreds of lives in search and rescue. But the rest of us...we’re just killers. Gladiators in the Colosseum of old Gaia, we fight for blood and glory. Some of us fight because we enjoy it. We’re not equipped to save the world, and how many of us would want to, really? We’re celebrities. No more. “This could be...anything. It’s outta our league.”

“Makoa’s right,” Anita says. “We just have to keep on doing what we do, like we’ve always done it. Forge wasn’t _actually_ a Legend yet. We’re gonna be fine.” 

_But you’re IMC, Anita._

_Hammond is the IMC._

_Anita, you’re in danger._

I try and mentally shake the voices away. “Yeah. Anita’s...Bangalore’s right. We just have to lie low, keep prepping for the new season, and eventually meet this new Legend, ‘Revenant’.” I frown, because it’s so unlike them to not give a full name...unless they’re like Bloth, who _only_ goes by their nickname, although any of us who’ve gotten to know them know that their actual name is Niroshen. I look directly at Anita, because I want her to know we’re with her if shit goes sideways. “We’re Legends. None of us are backed by any corporations, our affiliation is just with the Games. We stay here, we do our jobs, we go back into the arena as soon as it opens. And we stand together. Forge was alone, he had his guard down; we just have to be alert and aware.” I’m good at that, being aware. I’d like to be less aware, but if it means that I can keep my...well, if not friends, then colleagues, safe, so be it. The voices mean well, after all. “What this thing going after Hammond employees is doing...it isn’t our problem. Let _them_ handle it.”

 _It will be your problem very soon,_ my own voice whispers in my ear. 


	2. another rises

There haven’t been any more updates about the new legend. 

It’s weird how they announced them, and it’s weirder still how they haven’t been announced to the public yet, either; normally we get the notif a few days to a week before the execs go public with the news. There’ve been no further break-ins in Hammond buildings, not that any of us have been religious checking, but Crypto seems to be content that the ‘thing’ that’s going after Hammond has stopped, at least for now. It doesn’t exactly relieve any of us, but it gives us a much-needed breather. 

At least until noon on Friday. 

We’re all just, as Elliot says, ‘vibin’. We’re not at the bar like we might normally be, but we’re in the penthouse doing our weird equivalent of ‘hanging out’. I wouldn’t call us family, because we regularly attempt to brutalize each other in the Games, but we’re tied together by that, in a way. No one’s ever liked Caustic...until he inexplicably started warming up to Wattson when her father died. And that’s brought him...err,  _ closer _ ...to the rest of us than we expected it too. Wattson’s too sweet not to love. She’s adorable, brightens all our days. Sometimes she and Ajay force as many of us as they can into karaoke sing-offs. Gibraltar has made pictures fall off the walls before; I knew he was loud, but not  _ that _ loud. I don’t sing, but Bloth? Bloth is surprisingly good at singing. If, and only if, you can actually get the helmet and gas mask off them. They still need a respirator of a kind, and singing exhausts them pretty fast, but they know a ton of old folk songs...and a surprising amount of classic pop. Some alternate version of me always, always sings along. Elliot’s not bad either; Octavio couldn’t tell a sharp from a flat if both of them bit him in the ass. 

We’re not a family, but we’re as close to a family as any of us will probably ever get, I think, and I like that. These people, in their own way, helped make me who I am. Even if I never remember everything, never remember all of who I am, I’ve made memories with them. Memories I don’t want to forget like I forgot everything else. It scares me to think that there might be a chance regaining the old memories could...change...any of this. 

But things are already changing. And they’re about to change even more dramatically. 

The first thing that happens is Artur goes nuts. Now, Bloth usually keeps the bird in his cage on their desk when there’s multiple people home, or leaves Artur out in their room while they keep the door closed. Artur is notoriously distasteful of Pathfinder and has been known to attack Octavio’s legs, too, as well as Lifeline’s health drone, so usually Bloth keeps his interactions with us to a minimum. Something about ravens getting easily overexcited by too much stimuli. That, and Caustic got real tired of his scalpels being stolen, and I liked it when we actually had spoons in the drawers. We still haven’t found all the spoons Artur stole. So today, when we were all out, all hanging around, Artur was in Both’s room, door shut. We all have our own rooms, with their own small suites and kitchenettes, but they all open up into the common area where we congregate whenever we aren’t on the drop ship. And it’s from all the way down the hall that we start to hear Artur screaming at the top of his lungs. Loud, agitated caws. Bloth immediately gets up and disappears to their room to soothe him. 

_ He’s here. _

Who’s here? I’m immediately on edge, because Artur tends to sense things around the same time my voices start warning me. I don’t know  _ what _ he could be sensing right now, though. We’re all here. Path is in his room, far away from Artur—he’d been in his room for a while, disheartened by the loss of his ‘second best-friend’ and by the general air of doom and gloom around the rest of us. And Anita may have yelled at him for being sad about Forge despite having never met the guy...so Path wasn’t the one provoking the bird. We had armed security downstairs and an elevator to the penthouse level only we could access with Legends’ Keys. We still had our own homes to go back to in the off time between seasons...well, most of us...but this was where we stayed while the season was in swing, and we were safe here. 

Bloth comes back with a large frown under their clear respirator that they wore for casual, around-the-house wear. None of us had yet seen their eyes. “Artur is fine.” Their voice is weird. 

“He doesn’t sound fine,” Elliot says, gesturing at the door Bloodhound had just left through, behind which the bird is still screaming. He gets a withering look from Bloth with just their goggles alone.

_ He’s coming! Run! _

What the hell? There had been absolutely no urgency in the voices’ faint whispers up until this point and now I was being screamed at to  _ run? _ I stood up anyway, every hair on my body standing up. “Crypto, is there anything in like...the emergency stairwell or whatnot?”

Crypto frowned. “No, why?”

“Can you  _ check?  _ Just to be sure?” I was getting bombarded with ‘he’s here’ and ‘run’ and I wasn’t appreciating it. I felt tense, I felt panicked. Bloth was looking at me. Everyone was looking at me.

“Hey, Wraith, you okay?” Octavio asks, weirdly quiet for once. He seems to be the only one who really senses my nervousness, but then Bloth is looking at me, and Ajay is moving closer too, and I’m feeling closed in, and my head is starting to hurt. 

The elevator begins dinging.

I whirl around like I’m in the middle of combat with my kunai aimed for it. The others explode into movement behind me, but not what I expect; before I realize they aren’t squaring up alongside me, Gibby has caught hold of me and Natalie has my hand that holds the kunai, and the kunai is gone, Ajay has it.

_ Ding.  _ It’s climbing. 

“What the hell?!” I know I’ve had...outbursts...before. I know sometimes they can frighten my fellows. But I  _ know _ something’s wrong, I can feel it.

“Calm down, Renee, there’s nothing wrong!” Natalie tries to soothe me like she’s read my mind, Gibby has a hand on my shoulder and is also speaking, but I’m not in the mood to be soothed. Every nerve in my body is on fire. My heart is pounding. I haven’t been this charged since I escaped the labs, not even in my first Games.

_ Run! _

_ Run! _

_ It’s the thing, the thing, it’s—  _

“The  _ elevator _ ,” I exclaim, pointing at it, at the numbers slowly climbing on the screen as my mind swirls.  _ 13, 14, 15... _ “No one can access that elevator without a Legends key and we’re all  _ here! _ Who is that?!”

“Hey, Renee, it’s just the new Legend,” Elliot tries next, as the numbers keep climbing.  _ 16, 17... _ Everyone is tense, but it’s a tension of not knowing what the fuck is going on—no one else is  _ afraid _ . 

Well, I’m afraid.

_ 18, 19 _

“No—no, something’s wrong—” 

“Perhaps we should sedate her,” Caustic suggests, and I struggle harder against Natalie and Gibby’s hands. 

“Renee, please!” Natalie is distressed.

_ 20 _

“I agree,” Bloodhound says suddenly, appearing at my side with their hand on the hatchet that they must have brought out of their room. “Danger is here.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Bangalore growls. 

“Does  _ anyone? _ ” Mirage cries. 

_ 21 _

The lights flicker, and my head goes wild, so wild I can’t make heads or tails of what they’re screaming. The words are one deafening roar of sound, and all I can process is an ‘ev’ and a ‘t’ and a ‘orj’. 

_ ev t orj _

_ 22 _

_ ev n t ill orj _

_ 23 _

_ R ev nt ill d orj _

Natalie and Ajay both shriek as they go out entirely, then come back on mere seconds later. The yelling is starting to sync up as I’m clutching my skull, which feels like it’s about to split open. 

_ R ev en nt illd forj  _

_ 24 _

_ R ev en nt ill d forj _

_ 25 _

_ REV EN NT K ILLD FORJ _

And the lights are flickering again— 

_ REVENANT KILLED FORGE! _

**_What_ ** _?! _

When they flash back on, the fluorescent in the kitchen still persistently wavering, the elevator doors are open, and absolutely no one is there.

Not even the elevator. 

We’re looking at the cinderblock of the elevator shaft, the pulley and cables as they churn. The faint little lights and the safety ladder. The elevator is…

...slowly sliding up to meet the doors that are already open.  _ Ding _ . 

And now  _ its interior  _ doors open, and nothing is there. Again. 

I hear the answer to everyone’s unspoken question in my own voice.

_ He’s behind you _ . 

“ **So this is where you skinsuits congregate when you’re not pretending to murder each other** **_._ ** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spooky murder robot is spooky. 
> 
> I feel like so many things don't depict Revenant as appropriately terrifying. The dude is a monster. I strive to keep him monstrous...though I want to be able to balance that with the humanity he's furious he lost. He knows he's frightening. He uses it to his advantage. But please just let him rest.


	3. to take their place.

All of us are warriors. 

We aren’t all heroes, but we’re all fighters. We compete in a blood sport for a living. 

Not a  _ single _ one of us dares move. 

There’s only silence as we stare at the intruder who has so calmly and efficiently inserted itself into our world. 

It’s a whole foot taller than Pathfinder, maybe half a foot taller than Gibby, but it’s entirely long, thin, almost spidery limbs, metal servos, broad, bulky shoulder plates, and sharp talons. It’s not a human body, and it makes it look taller. Take up more of the room. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. A machine, a  _ big _ one, but not like an MRVN. Or a drone. It’s not that clunky. That body is meant to be streamlined. Humanoid in appearance.  _ Too _ humanoid, and yet not human enough. 

But the face is the biggest part that sets us off. 

Because it’s the face of Forge’s killer. 

A white skull mask on the upper half, a hollow pit for a nose, sunken, shadowed eyes that glow yellow. A red jaw, and a red cowl, and a red and black body. Strange, cold, lethal. 

Bloodhound is the first to recover—they are, after all,  _ ein Hunter _ , they are a veteran of the Games. Twice they’ve won. They level their hatchet at it, and the other hand has gone to the P2020 they almost always carry on their belt; even if we’re all ‘friends’ here, not all of us ever feel truly at ease. I know I don’t. It’s why I carry the kunai that I’m now also pointing at that silver and gunmetal-grey chest. Bangalore aims her gun. The rest tense, ready for a fight.

_ He moves too fast, you won’t be able to stop him if he attacks. _

_ He won’t attack you yet.  _

_ He’s sizing you up. _

Well, that’s reassuring. 

“Who the fuck are you,” Bangalore finally demands. Her voice is low, even, measured, but I can see by the way her fingers tighten on the trigger of the gun that she’s leveled at the thing’s head that she’s not as calm and collected as she seems. The voices are whispering, urgently, fearfully. One word; one name.

_ Revenant _

_ Revenant _

_ Revenant! _

“You,” I say, as loud as I dare, and the white face slowly swivels towards me, the eyes never moving in their sockets as the yellow lights fall on my face. The voices start getting louder. 

“ **Me,** ” it replies matter-of-factly, voice hollow, bone-shakingly deep, and bored. It’s a synthesized, inhuman voice. No real emotion. Nothing but darkness.

_ Anger _

_ Hatred _

_ Anger _

_ Rage! _

_ Revenant _ , the voices whisper, desperately, as though I hadn’t gotten the message the first, I don’t know, 300 times.  _ Revenant! _

Yeah, thanks, I think, annoyed. I  _ know _ who he is! 

“You killed Forge.” I don’t know if the others have recognized its face or if they’re just reacting to the sudden threat in our midst, but  _ I _ know who this is. And it’s the same thing that broke into the Hammond building. That the Mercenary Syndicate is after. That seems to be gunning for Hammond’s personnel. And now it’s  _ here _ , among us, the last place on earth we want it to be, and it got here without Crypto’s drones or cameras catching sight of it.

Bangalore’s fingers tighten further on her gun. “You  _ murder _ a man and now they’re, what, letting you take his  _ place? _ ”

“ **Something like that.** ” There’s a definite smugness to the voice. It’s  _ proud _ of its kill. It shifts its weight to the off leg in a remarkably human movement, fingers curling and uncurling, unbothered by the rest of us. “ **Are you upset? Thought you of all people would be** **_happy_ ** **he’s gone,** **_Anita_ ** **.** ” Her real name’s not a secret, but the implications are clear—it knows us. It’s done its homework. 

It takes a step forward with a hollow clunk of metal on the hard floor. She was the closest to it to start with, and now it looms over her, the overhead lights casting its face in shadow and leaving its hollow eyes yellow pinpricks of light in black sockets. 

“ **Or perhaps you’re afraid for** **_yourself_ ** **...Sergeant 1st Class.** ”

I’ve never seen Bangalore grow pale before, but I see it now. 

And it then proceeds to turn its  _ back _ on us. We’re not a threat, that much is obvious. And I might normally say that’s bravado on the part of a new Legend, but I can tell it’s not. It’s analyzed us and found us lacking as a potential source of danger. It’s confident. Arrogant. And unconcerned.

It walks to the couch. Sits down. Crosses one leg over the other. As if it doesn’t have a care in the world. The couch cushion sinks a good half a foot. This thing must weigh a  _ ton _ .

“Who the hell are you?” Gibraltar finally says. It’s one of the few times I’ve heard him swear. 

“ **You can call me Revenant. I’m your new teammate…or your newest enemy.** ” One arm goes out across the back of the couch. Something about the very human, very  _ organic _ movements of its body is deeply unnerving. “ **Depends on how you want to see me.** ”

Bangalore still has the rifle trained on its face. “Get out.” 

“ **Is that any way to treat your new colleague?** ”

“You are  _ not _ one of us,” Bloth says in a voice that’s surprisingly dark. “We kill with honor. We  _ fight _ for honor. For the glory. You—” 

“ **I kill for** **_fun_ ** **.** ” It tilts its head. The face never moves, but I feel the smile in its tone. “ **I was made to kill. Who am I to argue with programming?** ” 

It’s more than a robot. I know that already. It’s—

_ Simulacrum. _

_ He’s a simulacrum. _

Oh. Oh _shit_. It’s _not_ just a robot. Under that steel faceplate there’s a _human_ _mind_.

“Is that why ya killed Forge?” It’s the first time Ajay speaks. “Your ‘programmin’?”

If it could smile, I think it would be smiling. “ **Wouldn’t you like to know, girlie.** ”

“Don’t call her that,” Octavio says bravely, but quails the moment those eyes turn on him. 

“ **I already don’t like** **_you_ ** **.** ” 

“You are not welcome here,” Bloodhound repeats. None of us have let down our guard. “You may fight us in the Games if you are truly here for that, but you are not welcome in our space,  _ morðingi _ .”

“ **No? How disappointing.** ” The thing stands with a rather exaggerated sigh, cracks its neck like a human might. Turns its back on us once again and begins walking away, _towards_ our rooms. There are, after all, dozens of empty rooms waiting for future Legends. It has no intention of leaving us. “ **Guess I’ll be seeing you in the Games, then.** **I look forward to meeting you all there.** ” It glances over its shoulder at us. Those eyes are cold and threatening. “ **We can get to know each other for real. Up close…** ”

Its right hand uncurls from a fist into a spike as its fingers lock together and elongate, claws unfolding from already-pointed fingertips. 

“... **and personal.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revenant's a jerkass and I fuckin love him.


	4. Better find me before I find you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bangalore's thoughts on the newest Legend

None of us felt safe after...that. 

I’ve been a soldier my whole adult life, and I’ve been in the military world since I was a tot. It’s honestly all I know. I joined the Apex Games to pass the time; to get the money to go  _ home _ ; to let people I loved know I’m still alive. And hell—I’m good at it. Wouldn’t have won once if I wasn’t. I’m  _ good _ at what I do, I’m  _ good _ at being a soldier, and as much as I want to go home...I kinda enjoy the Games. I’ve made friends here. Sometimes some of ‘em feel more like I’ve adopted very large children, but I have people I actually like around me. That I can trust—maybe not as much as I trusted my brother, but then again, this isn’t a sport that breeds deep-seated trust and loyalty. You’re pitted against your friends sometimes and it’s you or them, that’s just how it goes. If my brother were here, I would have to fight him too and I’d...I’d just have to get over it, I guess. I know my bro’s not gone. I hope he sees me if he pays attention to the Apex Games—hope he’s got a good life, wherever he is. Hope he can tell that I’m at least a little bit happy where I am. Even if I never fully let my guard down, even if I’m cautious and always ready to attack. I’m happy here for the time being. 

Or I was. Until that  _ thing _ came. 

Don’t get me wrong; I  _ hated _ Forge. He was a jackass. He touched me not only without my permission, but  _ after _ I told him not to, and then proceeded to announce to the world that we’d had a  _ thing _ and he hoped I was happy— _ bullshit _ , motherfucker. Dude was a misogynistic jackass. I would have genuinely considered moving out of the Games tower if he was going to be taking up residence here. I wouldn’t have said I wanted him dead, though; to be entirely honest, I really didn’t think about him after we ‘met’. Not until he started gaining fame and then got announced as the new potential Legend (you don’t get to really join the ‘Legends’ until you win a season championship, but if you’re invited to play with the big dogs you still get called a Legend). 

God, I wasn’t expecting him to  _ die _ like that. How could I? How could anyone have wanted or expected that? Some fucking robot came out of nowhere and kebabbed him through the heart, and did it with lethal precision that specifically made revival impossible. This thing wanted him to stay dead. Was it sending a message? Who sent it? 

Now I know more and I wish I didn’t. 

_ Revenant _ , they’re calling him. No other name, nothing else to go off of. I can’t  _ believe _ they invited him into the ranks in place of the  _ man he murdered _ . Surely there must have been someone who came second to Forge, what about  _ them? _ Why  _ this _ asshole? How do you  _ murder _ a celebrity and get  _ rewarded _ for it? 

I don’t like it—him, I guess, technically, but I really don’t want to dignify it with human pronouns. Even if it  _ is _ , technically, a human. Oh, the body’s not, but the mind is. The fucker’s a Simulacrum. I’ve met one or two before. They were all like it in a way—disturbingly human in tone, behavior and movement, and always kind of pissy if you mentioned they were a robot...in the case of the ones who actually knew they were robots. Some, you got orders to  _ never _ under any circumstances inform them otherwise, and to never let them see their reflection. I knew one named Ash...don’t know what her name was beforehand, and that’s another thing, you never know their human names. I don’t think they get put back with their people after being...changed. 

But what the hell is  _ this _ thing? He looks like no simulacrum I’ve ever seen before in my life, and he’s even more human than some of them. And a  _ skull _ face of all things—that spiky murder hand—those shoulder pauldrons—he’s not made to be a pilot like the majority of the project. Is he some sort of prototype? Or a special kind of monster instead? 

It isn’t until I overhear Wraith speaking softly to Crypto that I get it. 

“He’s an assassin,” she said. “The symbol on his head that the scarf covers—it’s Syndicate. He’s a merc. One of the best. And now in a body physically built to kill.” 

Reassuring. 

I don’t remember the IMC ever overtly partnering with the Syndicate, even though I've had my own run-in with the mysterious org, and I don’t like the implications there. But the fact that I’m IMC at all means I have to watch my back. Sure, we all do, with this  _ thing _ living in close proximity to us, but most of the people here are Outlanders. Even Ajay, whose parents were big-name war profiteers, is very much Frontier herself, working relief on the war front. I respect her for that, even if I think her side caused a lot of unnecessary deaths trying to wrest control from a corporation that outnumbered them hundreds to one. Kind of foolish if you ask me. The IMC wasn’t evil, either. They had their evil _s—_ every big company does—but there were so many scientists and soldiers who really wanted to _help_ people, and we could've, we could've really made a difference...

But if the IMC, or this new 'Hammond' version of it, had anything to do with the creation of ‘Revenant’, as the Hammond Robotics logo on his hands indicates, then maybe it was. Maybe it still is. 

There’s no security anymore. I trusted some of my fellows here to a degree—Wraith, Wattson, Pathfinder, you know what, I even trusted Mirage and Octane. Maybe not with secrets of mine or sensitive missions, those last two, but I trusted them to be predictable in their stupidity. 

Now we’re all on guard. We’ve all taken to carrying weapons  _ in our own home _ . We don’t talk and laugh and joke like we used to, because that  _ thing _ is somewhere in the shadows, watching us. Most of us spend as much time as possible at Mirage’s bar, just to avoid having to go back home to where  _ it _ lays in wait, sharpening its claws, its knives, and its senses. 

We got the text about it ‘joining’ us exactly five days before it was announced publicly; it showed up mid-afternoon on the fourth day. So the moment it hit the news, we were accosted just leaving the apartment complex—reporters demanding to know our feelings on the ‘new Legend’, fans literally protesting in front of Game headquarters where we took off from every day, picket fences and what looked like it was a few seconds from breaking into a riot. I went with Wraith, Bloodhound, Mirage, Octane and Wattson to HQ to protest this addition myself. To be honest, I’m not sure why Wattson joined us. She seemed...fascinated by the monster, despite all but hiding behind Wraith when it had so much as looked at her. Scientists. Mirage and Wraith and I were the most vocal. Bloodhound surprised us with their own heated words. But the execs didn’t budge. “If you dislike him that much,” they said, “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to kill him when the season begins.” 

Haha. 

Normally, every newbie to the roster gets to go up against applicants who, like themself, have passed the qualifiers. Anyone can rise up through the qualifiers, but you have to have certain scores and stats, a certain amount of damage dealt, under a certain number of revives, to be counted as a potential new Legend. Then, you go up against others with those same qualifications and fight them 1v1, until you’re either the winner or you’ve been eliminated. You win,  _ we _ get the text welcoming you, and you’re added to the Games on the official roster as a ‘new Legend candidate’. They encourage us, the Legends, to give our all when we try to tear you down, so that the audience gets a good fight, but first you have a few rounds of fighting qualifiers who didn’t meet the stats to get where you are. Sometimes if there aren’t that many qualifiers, they’ll throw in some of us, on strict orders not to engage the newbie. The audience wants carnage, after all, they want to root for the new guy who’s been singled out as the sole target here. 

Well, they don’t do that with  _ this _ new guy. They throw several of  _ us _ into the ring with him, along with a whole host of qualified champions. I have no idea what they’re planning, or why. This is not normally how the season opens. There’s usually a lot more fanfare, too, for the new Legend hopeful, but there’s none for Revenant. One or two fans, usually young women, watch him as he walks past, the day we all head out (he’s at the back) but no one speaks to him. Except one dumbass reporter who he grabs by the head and shoves over into the dude’s own cameraman. Then we pass the Forge fangirls with their posts and signs and shirts and hashtags, raging at his existence, and wishing him the worst.

Revenant looks at them dead-on and blows them a kiss from immovable lips before strolling away  _ humming _ . 

The hum sounds more like a growl. 

We get into the dropship, head to the arena. We’re all on edge. Normally there’s chatter, banter back and forth as we watch the screens for info on who’s up against who, but right now it’s just silence, because that bastard’s lurking in the corner, eyes glowing in the bad dropship light. There’s a separate dropship for the newbies, and I can’t help but feel a little sorry for them. It’s one thing to be chucked into the arena with seasoned Legends. It’s another to have to face that monster. 

This is a ‘No Kill’ fight, which means any ‘deaths’ are going to be more staged than anything. Of course medics are always standing by, but in No-Kills, the weapons don’t pack as much of a punch, the shields are stronger. No headshots allowed, no melee combat, and any explosives are little more than lights and sounds. They want to save the actual guts and gore for later in the season; it wouldn’t be a show if people were getting taken out this early on. Caustic gets his gas relegated to a sleeping agent instead of an actual paralytic neurotoxin.  _ We _ , the Legends, we signed up for this, we know the risks, we know we face legitimate death each time we step in the ring. These ‘newbies’, these greenhorns who think they’re champions in their own right, they haven’t grasped the full picture yet. We don’t want to scare them off from the beginning. 

We get to the Arena, and the teams begin popping up; Caustic, me, Wraith. Another team; Gibraltar, and two people I don’t recognize who must be on the other ship. 

And then Revenant. 

Alone, no one else. 

I’m not the only one who stands up in alarm. We’re all confused and conflicted. This isn’t how the Games operates, it doesn’t make sense. The hell do they think he is, some kind of god? 

Then the screens alongside him actually light up, and everyone seems to release a collective breath. Newbie, Revenant, Newbie. 

Lifeline and Octane look at each other. I can’t see Ajay’s face and Octane’s is hidden by a mask, but I don’t need to see. It’s horror. Or at least fear. They were new here too, once, and I bet they’re thinking about the poor sods who have to be on this  _ thing’s _ team. I just hope the murderbot got briefed on how to play the Games before they threw him in with us, or this is gonna be mighty interesting. 

We all get onto our selected platforms; I watch Ajay draw closer to Octane as they both stand as far as possible from Revenant, creeping back towards Bloodhound for protection, and the other Legends who aren’t dropping also back away. With each step a heavy clang of metal, the freaky Sim moves, slowly, deliberately, and takes his place alone on the lift. I spot Ajay giving those of us dropping a look of sympathy, and we begin to lower.

I know the arena. I know my team. I may loathe the big red asshole, but I’m not  _ afraid _ of him...not exactly. I respect that he can do damage. I don’t want to have to meet him head-on in a fight, ‘specially not if I’m fighting alone. But if I’m right, he’s a sneaky type, he’ll keep low, stick to cover, buildings, maybe try to get to high ground to snipe people if he gets a good rifle. He took on those men in the restaurant straight on, but they weren’t heavily armed like us. They weren’t trained soldiers like us. I’ll keep my eye out, and Wraith’ll listen to her little birdies, and I’ll get ready to blast the fucker so full of holes they’ll have to permanently scrap him.

As always, I’m on alert, I’m ready to fight, and I’m not underestimating him, but I’m not afraid either. 

First blood is announced when I’m still scrounging ammo, tossing stuff to Wraith, sneaking upstairs to look for better loot.

The announcement is followed immediately by ‘squad eliminated’. 

Okay, that’s interesting. Must be the new guys, getting loped off quick by the more experienced fighters, or maybe even by Gibraltar, wherever he is. Or by the Sim.

New kill leader. 

That’s...fast. 

“Bang,” Wraith calls from downstairs, a note of urgency in her voice. “We gotta move.”

“Have we been spotted?” I hurry back down; she and Caustic are already at the door. “I scanned the area for the enemy, didn’t see anyone—”

“Revenant is the new kill leader,” Wraith said with a real strain in her voice. Her hand closed around my wrist. “He’s the new kill leader and I think—I think he’s coming for  _ you _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is a nod to her intro line, but it's also how Revenant feels about her; she better find him before he finds her.


End file.
